Gondor's Bane
by Sleepy Jean
Summary: A/U What if Boromir had taken the Ring from Frodo? Reviews are much appreciated. (7/?)
1. Of Deception and Thievery

A/N: I do not own any of the characters Tolkien created, nor do I own the places of Middle-earth. Even the very first few paragraphs of my story actually belong almost solely to Tolkien. I only used them to set up the rest of the story. I'm not making money off of this, of course, so please don't sue me! :)  
  
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Gondor's Bane  
  
Part One: Of Deception and Thievery  
  
  
  
Boromir muttered to himself as he walked as quietly as he could through the forest that lay beside the Anduin River. "Which way did he go?" he said. Every once in a while he glanced back to be sure he wasn't being followed. He wished to speak with small Frodo Baggins alone.  
  
He slowed as he finally saw the hobbit he sought sitting on a stone just ahead and to his left. A smile spread across his lips and he walked up behind the Ring-bearer. There he stood, watching, until at last Frodo stirred. Frodo leapt to his feet and whirled around to face him.  
  
Boromir smiled kindly down at him. "I was afraid for you, Frodo," he said, coming forward. He asked if he might talk to Frodo for a time in hopes that they together might find an answer as to what should be done next, but Frodo refused, saying he already knew what to do, but was afraid.  
  
Both were silent after Frodo's reply. Frodo did indeed seem afraid, Boromir noted as he studied the hobbit carefully. Obviously he was going to be harder to convince than Boromir had originally thought. He sat beside Frodo and offered to give him counsel. Again Frodo refused.  
  
Then Boromir asked to see the Ring of Sauron. Frodo looked at him and seemed alarmed. "It is best that it should lie hidden," said the Ring- bearer.  
  
Boromir told him of his plans to overthrow Sauron and Mordor. He paced as he spoke, his voice growing louder all the while. He then asked Frodo to accompany him to Minas Tirith at least for a while. Frodo still refused him.  
  
When Frodo refused to lend Boromir the Ring, Boromir grew angry. He offered to take the blame if Frodo would only hand it to him.  
  
"Come, come, my friend!" said Boromir in a softer voice. "Why not get rid of it? Why not be free of your doubt and fear? You can lay the blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by force. For I am too strong for you, halfling," he cried. He leaped at Frodo, who dodged him.  
  
Boromir picked himself up again and turned to Frodo, who was reaching for the Ring. Quickly, Boromir grabbed the chain that he Ring hung on. Frodo struggled to pull it free, but Boromir was much stronger and with one last yank he pulled the chain from Frodo's grasp. Frodo fell to the ground with a thud.  
  
"Boromir!" he cried desperately. "You speak of folly, but wielding that Ring even with good intentions would be folly!"  
  
Boromir laughed and held his new treasure up to inspect it. "You speak of that which you know nothing about. No, with this Ring I shall save my people and yours as well, Master Hobbit. If you were wiser you would see this Ring as a gift rather than a burden."  
  
"You have no right to take it," Frodo told him as he scrambled to his feet. "Aragorn will not be pleased when he hears of this!"  
  
"Aragorn!" Boromir scoffed. "If Aragorn feels the way you do, then I say that he, too, is a fool! Still, I do not wish to argue or come to blows with him or any other over this. Perhaps it would be best for me to go ahead of the rest of you." Boromir put the chain around his own neck and tucked it under his shirt. "I do this for the good of all."  
  
"You will destroy us all!" Frodo replied. "What will you do for food and water? You cannot get all the way to Minas Tirith without these. Do you also forget that we are very near to Mordor? Orcs would probably overtake you and capture the Ring long before you reached your city. What then of your great plan?"  
  
Boromir frowned. He looked up sharply as he heard voices calling for Frodo. He grumbled and ran toward the voices, leaving Frodo behind.  
  
"Where is Frodo?" Pippin demanded when Boromir reached them.  
  
Thinking quickly, Boromir pointed to his right. "He went in that direction, I believe." The others ran that way and Boromir rushed to the River. He hurriedly packed some extra food and refilled his water skin. Then he ran away in the direction opposite of the Company.  
  
Boromir paused as he heard the distant sound of Orc voices and soon those of the Fellowship. "Surely they would capture the Ring if I returned. This must be my chance to escape." He continued his run, the voices growing fainter behind him.  
  
--*--*--*--  
  
Boromir didn't stop to rest until late in the afternoon. He found a sheltered place and cast himself to the ground, panting. He was tired and hungry. After lying on the ground for a spell he pulled himself to a sitting position. He ate a meager and cold meal then crawled under a bush that grew nearby for shelter from sight and fell promptly to sleep. His dreams were not pleasant ones, but he could not wake from them.  
  
It was around midnight when Boromir finally awoke and escaped his dreams, but they remained in his mind. He lay still for a moment, listening for danger. Not hearing anything, he crawled out from under the bush and stood up. He wondered what had been the fate of his companions.  
  
"What if they needed my help and had perished because I did not come to their aid?" he thought. Feeling guilty, he pushed the thought from his mind and looked around. He was fairly sure that he was headed straight for Minas Tirith. If not, he would know soon enough.  
  
"No sense in delaying my journey," he said quietly, and slung his pack on after eating some lembas, the cakes that the Elves of Lothlorien had given the Company. As promised, the Elvish waybread renewed his strength and he once again began his flight towards the White City.  
  
An hour or so into his journey he was forced to draw his sword. Two stray orcs were ahead of him, arguing, as was the way of their kind. Since they were so engrossed in snarling at one another, Boromir easily caught them by surprise and killed them both.  
  
After doing this he quickly pressed on. Surely they weren't the only orcs about. He hoped only that any other orcs finding the ones he had slain would either take no notice or would simply think they'd killed each other.  
  
For the first time Boromir wished he'd waited and gone with at least one companion. Fear and doubt began to weigh more heavily on him, and he had to stop and put his hand to his forehead. He was almost certain that he could hear the whispers again. They invaded his mind and made him ill at ease. He had been hearing them throughout his journey with the Fellowship.  
  
"I cannot stop. I cannot turn back," he said to himself. "I must press onward and save the White City and my people." 


	2. The Pursuit Begins

A/N: Thank you to everyone that has encouraged me to continue this story. I deeply appreciate the kind reviews. Part three may be some time in coming, because I don't have it written yet (the first two were completed about a month or two ago) and I am also working on another fic. Thank you for your patience! This part is slightly shorter than the first, I think, but it should be a decent length for posting. Now, on to the story!  
  
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Gondor's Bane  
  
Part Two: The Pursuit Begins  
  
  
  
The rest of the Company had ran in the direction Boromir pointed them in, the hobbits shouting for their friend and the others trying to calm the frantic lads. After a time Frodo found them and quickly told of Boromir's betrayal.  
  
Aragorn frowned at this news. He was about to go looking for Boromir when he heard harsh voices.  
  
"Yrch!" Legolas exclaimed, setting his bow.  
  
"Orcs!" Gimli cried. "You had best take cover, hobbits. There seems to be a battle on its way!" He readied his axe.  
  
"Gimli is right. Hide, but be ready to do what you must. Hopefully they will not come to this spot, but I doubt we will be so fortunate," Aragorn said. He drew his sword. The hobbits hid themselves as best they could and Aragorn ordered Legolas and Gimli where to go and what to do. They complied immediately. The voices were now closer, and soon upon them.  
  
Legolas fired arrows at them, hitting his mark each time. Gimli slashed his axe and killed at least one with each stroke. Aragorn, too, was knocking them down at a great rate. The four hobbits watched in wide-eyed wonder from their hiding place. None of them dared to speak, but they each knew that the others realized that all of these were not typical Orcs. These were much larger and had a white marking on their hideous faces that appeared to be a handprint.  
  
The battle seemed to go on forever, but finally most of the orcs were slain and the others fleed, presumably either to regroup or to report to their master.  
  
"Gimli, stay here with the others and keep them hidden. Legolas and I will follow them to see what they are up to," Aragorn said quickly, then he and the elf sprang away after the orcs.  
  
Gimli kept a firm hold on his axe as he waited. The five that had been left behind didn't speak while their companions were gone for fear of other orcs that might be listening and also for fear of not hearing Aragorn and Legolas should they call for help. After a long while the Dunedain and Prince returned.  
  
"They have left here for now," Aragorn said. "It is safe to come out." The hobbits came out of hiding before Aragorn continued: "They seem to still think one of the halflings has the Ring. That is well for Boromir, although it will surely greatly hinder us. Boromir is probably headed for Minas Tirith, so we should follow. Let us go to the river and gather our things quickly. With any luck we will reach Boromir before it is too late."  
  
The remaining members of the Company hurried back to where they had left their packs. They grabbed only what they needed as Aragorn commanded and hid the rest under one of their boats, which they drug further ashore and overturned. One all of this was finished, Aragorn led them in the direction of Minas Tirith.  
  
They walked silently, each with his ears open, listening for the evil voices of the orcs, and hoping desperately that they would not hear them.  
  
Aragorn led, for he knew the way. Next came Frodo and Sam, then Gimli. After Gimli walked Merry and Pippin, with Legolas acting as rearguard. They trekked for many miles until the hobbits could take no more.  
  
Finally, they stopped in as sheltered a spot as possible and ate a cold supper since they dared not light a fire. After supper they slept, with Aragorn taking first watch.  
  
They began their next march before dawn. As they walked their faces were grim, but none was more dour than the face of Aragorn.  
  
"The fool!" he thought. "Does he not realize that this folly will almost certainly be the ruin of all of Middle-earth? Then our journey will have been in vain, and all hope will be lost."  
  
"Do not be so glum, Mister Frodo, sir," whispered Sam to his master. "It is not your fault."  
  
"I was afraid," Frodo whispered back. "I should not have gone into the woods alone. I should have been bolder and stayed at the river to announce my decision. I knew what I had to do, but I was afraid. Because of my fear all may be lost."  
  
"There's still hope yet," Sam reassured him, while silently cursing Boromir.  
  
"He'll regret this when I get my hands on him, and no mistake," Sam though furiously.  
  
Frodo was thankful for Sam and his encouraging words, but he didn't feel any better. "Why did I resist?'' Frodo asked himself. "Curse Sauron and his filthy Orcs! Curse the Ring and its evil whisperings! Curst Boromir and his foolishness!" Frodo cringed at the harshness of his own thoughts.  
  
Gimli looked at the hobbits that walked ahead of him. He didn't really blame Frodo for this latest development. Instead he blamed himself and the other ''warriors'' of the group.  
  
"We should have watched more closely. We were sent to protect him,'' he told himself.  
  
Pippin and Merry walked side-by-side in a glum silence. Both were too downcast and afraid to speak.  
  
"I do not want an adventure," Pippin thought. "I would be happy to have my only adventure be running from Farmer Maggot's dogs. I wish we were all back in the Shire!"  
  
Merry frowned. "Poor Frodo. Poor us if Boromir does anything else that is foolish. I hope we find him in time..." he said to himself.  
  
Legolas searched the horizon carefully, hoping to see Boromir's shape ahead. "I felt that something was wrong with him. He was not strong enough to resist its temptation. Why did I not warn Frodo to be more careful around him?" Legolas asked himself.  
  
The Company trudged on, a sense of urgency in each of their minds. 


	3. Dreams and Warnings

A/N: I have switched the flow of this story slightly. In the first two  
  
chapters I updated on both Boromir's and the rest of the Fellowship's doings.  
  
Since I'm getting farther into the story and more involved, I feel it would  
  
be best to stick with one or the other for an entire chapter. Thank you for  
  
your patience as it has taken me a while to get this written and typed up. As  
  
always, feel free to be completely honest in any review you feel like  
  
posting. Thank you!  
  
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Gondor's Bane  
  
Part Three: Dreams and Warnings  
  
  
  
Boromir sat on the ground eating his meal. He tried to think of his plans for  
  
when he reached Minas Tirith, but his thoughts kept returning to the Company  
  
he had left behind.  
  
"There was no way I could have stayed," he reasoned. "If I had turned back,  
  
they would have had the Ring within their grasp. No, this was the only way."  
  
Then Boromir heard the whispers again. They said dark and evil things to him.  
  
He did not speak the language the whispers spoke, but he had heard it before  
  
from those foul creatures known as Orcs. The words could not be kind if they  
  
were spoken in such a tongue.  
  
Boromir shuddered slightly. He was a brave man, and had stood and fought  
  
valiantly many times before, but these whispers struck fear into his heart,  
  
the like of which he had never known.  
  
The whispers spoke of battle, death and torture--all far worse than any  
  
Boromir had ever experienced or witnessed before. He knew the Ring wished for  
  
him to wield it. He also knew that the Ring could see that that was also his  
  
wish. While fearful of what he heard, Boromir was also enticed by the Ring,  
  
and deceived.  
  
"If I use this Ring, I will be powerful, and I will save my country," he  
  
thought. He touched the clothing that covered the Ring. "This shall save my  
  
people."  
  
A noise behind him made Boromir jump. He leapt to his feet and unsheathed his  
  
sword as he turned quickly around.  
  
Peering into the darkness, Boromir clutched his shield, perspiration  
  
appearing on his brow.  
  
"Why do they not attack?" Boromir wondered. "Why are they waiting?"  
  
He stepped forward, considering calling whoever was there to come forward. As  
  
he opened his mouth to shout, a small rabbit came into view. Boromir lowered  
  
his shield and sword.  
  
"I must need rest," he said to himself. He watched the rabbit as it hopped  
  
away. Setting his shield down and sheathing his sword, the future steward of  
  
Gondor lay down to take the aforementioned rest. He was afraid to sleep now,  
  
for the Ring made him anxious, but he knew he should at least lie down for a  
  
while.  
  
He fought sleep off for a few hours, but his eyes eventually slid shut and he  
  
drifted to sleep.  
  
As he slept, Boromir began to dream. In his dream he was walking through  
  
Lorien once again. He felt at peace as he walked, the fair voices of Elves  
  
singing somewhere in the trees.  
  
Boromir suddenly came upon Galadriel. She stood in all her beauty and  
  
radiance before him, looking off into the distance.  
  
"Lady," he said softly, bowing.  
  
Galadriel turned slowly to face Boromir as he pulled himself back to his full  
  
height. Her eyes burned into his, and he had to look away. The look on her  
  
face had been one of anger and sadness; of disappointment and displeasure.  
  
"Boromir, son of Denethor, you did not heed the warnings," he heard her say  
  
in his mind. "You were tempted, and you failed. There is still time, however.  
  
You must seek the Fellowship and return the Ring to Frodo. If you do not do  
  
this, Middle-earth is doomed."  
  
"Lady," Boromir thought in return, "I do this to save Middle-earth. I shall  
  
not use it to harm any but those who serve Sauron. Do you not see that my  
  
intentions are pure?"  
  
"Do not be deceived. Though your heart be pure now, if you continue with this  
  
journey, it will be poisoned as your mind has been. Return the One Ring, and  
  
do not wield it," Galadriel told him. "The fate of us all rests with you.  
  
Choose wisely."  
  
Boromir started to protest, but the forest faded, and Galadriel went with it.  
  
Boromir found himself now in Gondor, surrounded by familiar faces. The faces  
  
smiled warmly at him as he walked through the streets of Minas Tirith. He  
  
eventually reached his father, Denethor.  
  
Denethor welcomed his son with a hug. Boromir's brother Faramir was also  
  
there. Faramir smiled at his brother, but Boromir saw something else in his  
  
eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he thought it was terror.  
  
Then Boromir saw the Ring. It floated before him, leading him back to the  
  
streets. As he passed Faramir and Denethor, each of them fell to the ground,  
  
neither one breathing. The same thing happened to each person on the street  
  
that he passed.  
  
At the gate of the city he saw the Fellowship. Frodo reached up to take the  
  
Ring back, but Boromir quickly pulled out his sword. As he lifted it over the  
  
hobbit, prepared to strike should Frodo take hold of the Ring, Boromir awoke,  
  
breathing hard. Wiping a hand across his brow, he sighed with relief.  
  
"It was but a dream," he said to himself; ''nothing more."  
  
Still, Boromir had his doubts about this. He reached for the Ring and held it  
  
up, looking at it again.  
  
"So small," he muttered. "So seemingly insignificant... Why, then, am I  
  
frightened by its enormity?" 


	4. Yrch!

A/N: I know I took a _long_ time getting this part written, and I apologize. Here it is, though. I hope you enjoy it. :)  
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Gondor's Bane  
Part Four: Yrch!  
  
"Aragorn," Gimli said quietly. "I need to speak with you."  
  
Aragorn looked at the dwarf and saw uneasiness in his dark eyes. "What is it, Gimli son of Glóin? What troubles you?"  
  
Gimli answered, "I have seen the Lady Galadriel."  
  
"You have?"  
  
"Yes. I have seen her in my sleep. She was standing in Lothlorien, fairer than I remembered her being," Gimli replied.  
  
"Did she say anything to you?"  
  
"She told me that she fears for the safety of Boromir. She said his heart was heavy and turning farther from where it used to be. Farther from where it should be... She told me that the Ring is too much for him. His will to resist its temptation is not strong enough."  
  
Aragorn looked off into the distance. "I have seen her as well, friend. She told me these things in my sleep. She also said we should make great haste that we may hope to find him before someone else does."  
  
Gimli nodded solemnly. "If the Lady says it, then so it should be."  
  
"Tell everyone that we shall leave very soon," Aragorn said in response.  
  
Gimli left the man where he stood and went back to their companions. "We leave shortly," he said and set about getting what he could ready for the next leg of their journey.  
  
"What were you and Aragorn speaking of?" Pippin asked.  
  
Gimli didn't answer immediately. He finally said, "Do not worry yourself with such things, young Mister Took."  
  
Pippin furrowed his brow. "Here! I am tired of being left out of things because of my age! I am a part of this Fellowship as well. I deserve to know what is happening!"  
  
"Calm yourself, Peregrin!" Aragorn spoke. He had come over as Pippin began his complaint. "We are very near to Mordor. There may be orcs nearby as we speak. You do not want to attract them with your raised voice. What is it that you wish to know?"  
  
Pippin looked sheepish. He spoke softly: "I am sorry, Strider. I only wished to know what you and Gimli spoke of just now."  
  
"Very well," Aragorn consented. He told the Fellowship of the dreams he and the dwarf had had.   
  
"I had the same dream!" Pippin cried in astonishment.  
  
"So did I," Merry nodded. Frodo, Sam and Legolas also said that they had seen Galadriel in their sleep. Everyone recounted their dreams and they were all almost identical.  
  
They all agreed that it would be wise to begin their journey again immediately. Following a quick meal, the Fellowship set out once more in pursuit of their former companion.  
  
Two hours into their march they were attacked by several very large orcs. The Company drew their weapons. All, including the hobbits, would have to fight.   
  
The orcs attacked them fiercly. There were thirteen of them in all. They charged the Fellowship, crying out evil and vulgar things in the language of Mordor.  
  
Legolas fired arrows at a few, killing them instantly. Gimli put his axe to good work, slaying more of them. Frodo and the other hobbits stood close together, their blades drawn. When an orc came close to them they attacked. Aragorn, meanwhile, was in a sword fight with an orc-chieftain.  
  
The clash of swords could be heard a good distance away. Very soon more orcs were upon the Fellowship.  
  
"How long can this go on?" Merry asked, exhausted from the battle.  
  
"It will be full light soon," Frodo answered, clutching Sting. "They'll not fight so well then."  
  
"What will we do until then?" Pippin questioned.  
  
"We continue to fight. The others cannot face so many alone. We may not be great warriors as they are, but we will do all that we can," Frodo said.  
  
The four hobbits let out a great cry and rushed the opposition, their blades flashing in the rising sun's light. They went in groups of two: Frodo and Sam were a pair, while Merry and Pippin stayed close to one another. They slid their small swords into their enemies quickly, attacking them from behind. One team of hobbits would get an orc or two's attention while the other two came up behind the creatures and stabbed them.  
  
Soon the sun had risen all the way and morning had fully broken. The remaining orcs were easily slain. One attempted to run away, but fell as Legolas' arrow pierced his back.  
  
"Well done, hobbits!" Gimli praised. "You are stouter warriors than you appear to be!"  
  
"I am just glad it is over," Sam sighed. He wiped the orc blood from his sword onto the grass.  
  
"You fought well. Let us not tarry here and speak of it, however. We have another duty to perform," Aragorn reminded them.  
  
They all readied themselves to continue their march, walking in the same order as they had the entire time from the place where they had left their boats.  
  
"That will teach them to mess with the Shire!" Pippin said quietly to Merry.  
  
"Indeed, Pip," Merry returned. "Let us just hope the other orcs get the message."  
  
Pippin nodded. He hoped so. He never wanted to see another orc again. "Merry?" he spoke.  
  
"Yes, Pip?"  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
Merry sighed. "Oh, Pippin..."  



	5. The Wrong Hands

Gondor's Bane  
Part Five: The Wrong Hands  
  
Boromir stumbled along, his mind whirling. He was becoming increasingly disoriented. The whispers were growing louder in his mind. They were driving him mad.  
  
"Silence! Silence, please!" he pleaded, but to no avail.  
  
It had been hours since they started again. Boromir's heart grew heavier with each step, it seemed. He could not understand what was happening to him.  
  
_I am a man of Gondor!_ he thought. _I have fought bravely in many battles. I have faced things that others see only in their nightmares! Why does my heart quake at a Ring? Please, be silent!  
  
_Boromir was so troubled by the Ring and its whispers that he had strayed far from his course. He continued walking, his thoughts on trying to silence the Ring. He considered turning back and finding the Fellowship.   
  
_I could return the Ring to Frodo,_ he thought. _Then perhaps my heart would not be so troubled..._  
  
_No, you fool! _he then found himself thinking. _He will give the Ring to Sauron. What then will become of Gondor? Take the Ring to Minas Tirith and fight Mordor with it. You shall be known as a hero!  
  
_"Yes," Boromir said aloud. "Why should I give it back to Frodo? He is but a halfling. How could he possibly contend with Mordor?"  
  
_Boromir._  
  
The Man halted. Who had called his name?  
  
_Boromir._  
  
There it was again. Boromir reached for his sword. As he did the whispers grew louder. He felt a strong urge to slip the Ring onto his finger. He slipped the silver chain it was on off of his neck and held the Ring in his palm. The whispers grew louder still.  
  
_Boromir!_  
  
"No!" Boromir thought frantically as he held the Ring. He was now holding it between the index finger and thumb of his left hand. It was as if something other than himself was drawing his right hand closer to it. He didn't know why, but he felt he should not put the Ring on.  
  
The Ring suddenly grew very hot and he let it fall to the ground, gasping in pain. The whispers stopped abruptly. Boromir fell to his knees and stuck his fingers into his mouth in an effort to stop the burning.  
  
The pain slowly subsided and he stared down at the Ring. A gentle breeze blew. He lifted his head and let it sweep softly across his face. For a moment his head cleared a bit.  
  
"What happened?" he wondered. "Why did it burn me? That has not happened before..."  
  
He picked the Ring up by grabbing the chain He held it up to inspect it. Everything appeared normal. Boromir carefully slipped it back onto his neck and tucked it under his clothing. He began to stand, but noticed that he had become very weak. He decided to sit for a short while to regain some of his strength. He also ate some more lembas and drank a little water.  
  
As he sat, memories flooded his mind: his farewell to his father and brother; his journey to Rivendell; the Council of Elrond; the time that followed prior to the beginning of the Fellowship's journey and the evening they left.  
  
_"For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road,"_ he remembered Lord Elrond say at their parting.  
  
_"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,"_ had been Gimli's reply.  
  
He remembered Caradhras; the wargs; Moria; Gandalf's falling; Lothlorien and the Lady Galadriel.  
  
_"But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true,"_ she had said.  
  
Memories of the stay in Lothlorien came back to him, as well as their trip down the Anduin.  
  
_"It is not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need..."_ he himself had once said.  
  
He remembered then taking the Ring from Frodo and hearing the sounds of his companions battling as he fled. His heart sank. Was this what had become of him? He had left when his friends needed him. He had lied and stolen from them.  
  
Boromir, the warrior he was, began to cry. He placed his head in his hands and sobbed.  
  
When his tears had finally subsided he stood and again began walking. His mind was still clouded. It was the evening of the twenty-eighth day of February now. He wished the journey were finally over so he could rest. Two months before had the Company set out for Rivendell, and he was very weary.  
  
Boromir tried to turn his thoughts to something more pleasant. He thought of seeing his father and brother once more. He longed to sit and dine with them once more.  
  
Then he remembered his dream. What the dream meant exactly, he could not say. All Boromir knew was that he didn't like it.  
  
_Boromir._  
  
"Silence!" he repeated. "I do not wish to hear from you! Not now, nor ever again!"  
  
_Boromir._  
  
Whispers. Boromir was glad that he did not speak the language of the whispers and could understand naught but his name, but that was bad enough. His heart grew heavier still. His feet were like great stones. His head began to ache and he felt sick in his stomach.  
  
He stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. He grew increasingly more tired and longed to lie down, but he continued his march.  
  
Boromir became dizzy. The world around him seemed to spin. He held out his arms to help keep his balance. He paused and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind.   
  
Suddenly he felt something jump on him from behind. He fell to the ground from the force of the blow. He was weak and whatever it was easily held him down. He cried out as he struggled to get free.  
  
His attacker clawed at his cloak, finally snatching it off. Then the attacker grabbed the chain and forcefully took it off of Boromir's neck.  
  
"At last!" Boromir heard. "The Preciousss is ours at lassst!"  
  
The weight that had held him down lifted from Boromir's back. He began to lift himself.  
  
"Thief!" the attacker hissed, grabbing Boromir by his hair. "Nasssty thief! Nasssty thief took the Precious, but we has it back now, yes, Preciousss!" With that the attacker slammed Boromir's head against the ground hard and fled.  
  
Boromir moaned in pain. He tried to push himself up, but he was in too much pain to do so. He lie on the ground clutching his head.  
  
_The Ring!_ he thought._ I must get it back!_  
  
Then everything went black.  
  
  
  



	6. Ill At Ease

A/N: It's a bit short, but since everyone wants me to hurry and post something, I've tried to continue the story a bit. Hopefully it is coherent as it was written somewhat quickly and late at night. I hope it doesn't disappoint. There's no action in this part. Just the Fellowship doing a little thinking. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it's been so long in coming!

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Gondor's Bane

Part Six: Ill At Ease

"What are they saying?" Sam asked Frodo, gesturing toward Aragorn and Legolas, who stood speaking quietly away from the Fellowship's remaining members. 

"I don't know, Sam," Frodo answered.

Pippin took a bite of an apple he had found in the bottom of Merry's pack while his cousin wasn't looking. "I don't see why they have to speak away from the rest of us. I thought Aragorn decided we should know what is happening as well."

"I'm sure they have a good reason for speaking privately, Pip," Merry replied. "Where did you find that apple?"

Pippin grinned and continued eating.

"I'm going to see what is taking so long," Gimli grunted, walking over to the Man and the Elf. 

"I do not know why, but I feel something has happened," Legolas was saying.

Aragorn looked thoughtfully into the distance. "Let us not speak of our concerns with the others. At least, not until necessary."

Legolas and Gimli nodded. "What do you think has happened?" Gimli asked.

"I know not," was the elf's answer. 

"Let us gather our things and continue our march. Let us also hope that you are wrong in this case, Legolas," Aragorn said.

Legolas nodded again, and the three returned to the hobbits. 

***

During the march Legolas scanned the horizon as he had done for the entire pursuit. Still, he saw nothing. He desperately hoped that Aragorn could find and follow Boromir's trail. Though he trusted Aragorn in this matter, and felt sure the Man could do this, he knew that without either a hindrance to Boromir or more speed from the Fellowship, their chase would be in vain. Boromir would reach his city before them and would probably have already used the Ring, possibly to his own destruction.

Legolas allowed his mind to wander back to his father's halls. He wished to return there and taste the sweet Elvish wine, and to hear the tales of his people told by their fair voices in his own tongue. 

Gimli wondered about Legolas's statement. What could have happened? He was fond of the elf, but told himself that Elves had been wrong before. This hope was faint, even in a dwarf's heart. 

He himself was rather homesick. He wished to once more see his kin. They would share a hearty feast, then head farther into the mines. Perhaps they would fashion some playthings for the dwarf children. Maybe they would just sit and laugh together for a while. He wished he were home. He would not turn aside, though. Gimli would not leave the Fellowship until his part was over. Perhaps he would die alongside his new friends. He could not tell the future, nor did he want to. All he wanted was to find Boromir, return the Ring to Frodo, and throw it into Mount Doom to have done with this madness once and for all. 

The hobbits all had the same thoughts on their minds: hobbit holes, mushrooms, bacon, ale and sleep. They longed to see the fields of green once more. They wanted to sleep in soft, warm, safe beds in safe holes. They no longer cared for adventure and all such things as that. They just wanted to go home.

"When we're finished, I'm going to sleep for a week," Pippin yawned. "Then I believe I'll go to the Green Dragon and stay there for the next."

"I'm going to have fresh vegetables every day," Merry said, licking his lips hungrily. "Really, Pip, where'd you get that apple you had?"

"I believe I'll be content to walk the hills of the Shire from now on. Maybe stay in Hobbiton altogether," Sam said.

Frodo sighed. "I believe the only place I'll be walking will be the inside of Bag End if I can get it back from the Sackville-Bagginses."

Sam scowled. "Why did you have to give it to them, Mister Frodo, begging your pardon?"

"I didn't have much choice, Sam," Frodo answered. "My mind was on other things than Bag End."

"Too bad ol' Gandalf isn't around still. He'd make them give it back."

"Yes, he would." Frodo agreed quietly. He believed Gandalf would do many things if he were still with them. Perhaps he could even help them reach Boromir in time.

Aragorn's thoughts were on more than one thing. He considered the path he was following, which had strayed from the direction of Minas Tirith, as well as what Boromir was doing, what Legolas had said, his destiny and an elf maiden in Rivendell. The very thought of her made the man's heart grow stronger. He would not let her down. 

Boromir was making this task much more difficult than it had to be. A difficult journey was nearing its end and Boromir, taken by madness most likely, had taken what he shouldn't have, thus changing everything. In the absence of the Ring, Aragorn noticed that Frodo's eyes shone clearer, but the hobbit seemed more depressed. He had had a heavy burden laid upon him, and he was willing to carry that burden to the end. Now the end was slipping further and further away...or perhaps it was drawing nearer. They could not know for sure. All they could do was continue following Boromir's path and hope to reach him in time.

Aragorn looked at the horizon. "Son of Gondor, what have you done?"


	7. Lost and Found

Gondor's Bane

Part Seven: Lost and Found 

Boromir woke many times, but not for long. He was not sure how long it had been since he was attacked. Hours? Perhaps even days. All he felt was the throbbing in his head. During one of his waking spells he had realized that his head had been smashed into a stone. With what little strength he had left, he had shoved the stone away. He now lay with his ear pressed to the ground, his eyes focused on his water skin, which he had dropped while trying to drink something to quench his thirst before. The ground beneath the skin was wet, but hopefully there was still something left inside it.

Boromir reached out slowly and grabbed it with his right hand. He managed to lift his head enough to get a drink, although not for long as this made everything begin to spin once more. Thankfully, there was water still, so the Man was able to take a drink. With an effort, he managed to close the skin before dropping his head back to the ground and slipping back into a deep and troubled sleep.

He awoke to the sound of rhythmic thumping. He could not be sure how many, but it sounded like the hooves of many horses. They were approaching rapidly, but began to slow as they drew near. Finally, when they were but a few yards away, Boromir guessed, they halted completely. 

"He looks to be from Gondor," said a voice.

"I will go forth," said another. 

Boromir hoped silently that they were friendly folk, whomever they be. He winced as he felt a foot nudge his ribs. Then he felt a hand on his right shoulder and someone strong rolled him to his back. Squinting up at the person, he saw that it was a man clad in the garb of Rohan. His helmet shone brightly in the sun, and his face showed an expression of concern.

"Boromir?" the man said, realizing who he was looking at.

Boromir opened his mouth and weakly said, "I am Boromir of Gondor."

The other man took off his helmet. "Boromir," he said, "it is I, Éomer."

"Éomer?" Boromir replied, recognizing the man then. "Éomer, you must help me. He took it from me! He called me a thief, but I am no thief! They must be told!"

Éomer inspected the wound on Boromir's head. "Well, Boromir of Gondor, be you a thief or not, you are badly injured. How long have you lain here?"

"I know not."

"What was taken from you? Who took it? Who must be told?"

Boromir moaned in pain and didn't answer the questions.

The man stood and walked back to the other men he had been traveling with. They spoke quietly, then he returned with two others and a horse. Together they lifted Boromir onto the horse, and Éomer mounted behind. The others returned to their steeds and they once more began their ride. 

Boromir's head ached, and the jolting of the horse did not make his pain lessen. The other man's strong arms prevented him from slipping when his own strength was not enough to keep him upright. 

"Where are you taking me?" Boromir said hoarsely.

"To Edoras," answered Éomer.

"Edoras," murmured Boromir. He felt relief sweep over his entire body. Perhaps they had word of his friends. 

The men rode as quickly as they could and in some time they reached Edoras. Boromir was brought into one of the rooms of the king and placed on a soft bed after being bathed. Éowyn, Éomer's sister, sat by his bed trying to feed him and bathing his wound. Boromir slowly felt his strength returning. During this time Éomer questioned him further.

"Why did you travel alone? How came you to be injured so?" questioned the man.

Boromir, able to think more clearly now that he had been fed and his wound had been properly washed and bandaged, answered, "I did not travel alone at first. I set forth from Rivendell, home of Lord Elrond of the Elves, with eight companions. We traveled south, and lost one in the mines of Moria. From there we went to Lothlorien, home of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. They treated us well, and provided boats for us to journey on the Anduin. I left my Company on the banks of the Anduin to travel to Minas Tirith alone. They were attacked and I know not if they still live. If they do, they will probably be seeking me."

"Were you injured in the battle?"

"Nay. I was attacked from behind in the very spot you found me. Who my attacker was, I do not know. He stole a very important treasure from me, and I must get word to my company." Boromir began to rise at this point, but Éomer held up his hand.

"Rest, Boromir. Who were your traveling companions?"

"Aragorn son of Arathorn, a man; Gimli son of Gloin, a dwarf; an Elf prince of Mirkwood called Legolas, and four hobbits named Frodo, Samwise, Meriadoc and Peregrin were my companions. The one we lost was Gandalf, the Wizard."

"Gandalf has fallen?" Éomer asked, surprise showing on his face.

"I am afraid it is true."

"You say something important was stolen from you?"

"Yes."

"What treasure could be so important?"

"I have not the right to say. Please, allow me to leave at once. I must get word to the others of this event." Boromir again began to rise, but was once more stopped.

"You are injured, and cannot travel. Rest," said Éomer.

"I must--"

The man broke in. "Rest, Boromir. Your friends will be told of this." Éomer instructed Éowyn not to let Boromir leave and promised to return shortly. Then he left to gather his men and a few spare horses. His men and beasts were weary, he knew, but something troubled Boromir, and he would not rest until he knew what it was.

Together, after sending messengers to Denethor, letting him know of his son's whereabouts, the Third Marshall of the Riddermark and his men rode forth from Edoras in search of the Fellowship.


End file.
